A spotlight

As far as I know, it's not mandatory for a Valentine's Day dessert to contain chocolate. Though chocolate is what I typically think of when I think of Valentine's Day desserts, as far as I know there isn't any sort of February 14-chocolate law. Thus, there is no reason why a walnut pound cake can't fit right in with the flowers and the heartfelt declarations of love and the fat flying cherub with the quiver.

Of course, this cake isn't much of a looker. Wait, I shouldn't say that. How rude of me. This cake is beautiful, in that way that the homely, scraggly dog at the shelter is somehow the cutest one there. But up next to a well-crafted chocolate souffle, or a box of handmade chocolates, or a red velvet cake cut into a heart-shape and covered with cinnamon frosting, this walnut pound cake falls a little short in the swimsuit portion of the pageant.

Luckily for you and your Valentine, it more than makes up for it in the more substantive question-and-answer period. As a pound cake, it is dense. Buttery. Significant. Its edges caramelize into a light and crispy sugar "crust" that is a divine contrast to the moist cake within. Beyond the vanilla, the only flavoring in the cake comes from the toasted chopped walnuts -- which means the cake is simple and subtle in the best possible way. I thought about adding some orange zest to punch up the flavor quotient a bit, but decided against it. The walnut deserves to shine. On a stage as rich as a pound cake, all the walnut needs is a spotlight. And maybe Bert Parks, armed with some pressing, thoughtful questions.

So, stereotypical Valentine's chocolate dessert: there's always runner-up. I hope you're up to the challenge of stepping in, in the highly unlikely event the walnut pound cake is unable to fulfill its duties.

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WALNUT POUND CAKE

Adapted from the Penzeys catalog

1 c. (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened

1/2 c. shortening

3 c. sugar

5 eggs

3 c. all-purpose flour

1/2 t. baking powder

1 c. whole milk

1/2 t. vanilla extract

2 c. walnuts, chopped and toasted

Powdered sugar, for dusting (optional)

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit. Chop the walnuts and spread them in an even layer on a baking sheet. Toast in the oven for 8-10 minutes, until the walnuts take on a little color and are fragrant. Remove and let cool. (Keep the oven on 325 degrees.)

Grease and flour a 10-inch Bundt or tube pan (or use Pam with flour, which is so easy and works so well). In a medium bowl, sift together the flour and baking powder; set aside. In a stand mixer, cream together the butter and shortening on medium speed for about 2 minutes. Gradually add the sugar, then beat for about 7 more minutes, until the mixture is fluffy and very light, almost white in color.

Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Gradually add the flour mixture to the butter mixture, alternating with the milk. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Add the vanilla and walnuts and mix briefly to combine. Pour into the prepared pan.

Bake for 90 minutes, then remove and let cool in the pan for 10-15 minutes before turning the cake out onto a wire rack to cool completely. Dust with powdered sugar if desired, and serve.

Makes 16 pieces.

Ginger has a way of doing that

Sometimes I am completely smitten by the appearance of baked goods. Lovely cupcakes frosted with a perfect swirl of pastel icing. Tiny cookies bathed in a pale matte glaze. Rich, dark bundt cakes dusted with delicate powdered sugar. Like, I see them and I swoon.

Which is what happened when I spied these double-ginger cupcakes with lemon glaze. Even the words that make up the name are delightful: double ginger, lemon glaze. Those seven syllables are completely evocative of something tasty, and flavorful and pretty. So pretty. Smiling up from their wee foil wrappers, these robust treats show off their pretty lemon cloak as if to say, If I had eyelashes, I would bat them at you.

Even so, these darling cupcakes are not about...looks. Their charming simplicity belies a world of complex flavor within their silvery papers. Ginger has a way of doing that. It turns a brown, plain-looking cupcake into a deeply-flavored confection-party just by mingling mischievously with its partners in crime, cinnamon and allspice. Ginger is totally in charge, warming the kitchen with its distinctive sharp fragrance while it's being mixed in the bowl -- even before it starts baking. Ginger endears itself to me each time I come across it, whether present in sweet or savory surroundings. If you did not realize that a root could endear itself to someone, well, think again. If there's a root to personify, it's ginger. 

And since this recipe calls for both ground and freshly grated ginger, the notes are even more nuanced and varied. Good thing February is such a good month for swooning.

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DOUBLE GINGER CUPCAKES WITH LEMON GLAZE

Adapted from "Cooking Light"

The recipe states that these cupcakes rise best when baked in foil liners. Foil liners are also pretty.

A tip for grating fresh ginger, courtesy of bestie Alton Brown: use a porcelain ginger grater covered with a piece of plastic wrap. Lift off the plastic wrap when you're done grating; the grated ginger and residual juice is easy to transfer from the plastic into the mixing bowl, and the grater is super-easy to clean.

For the cupcakes:

4.5 oz. all-purpose flour (about 1 c.)

1 t. ground ginger

1/2 t. baking powder

1/2 t. baking soda

1/2 t. ground cinnamon

1/4 t. kosher salt

1/8 t. ground allspice

1/2 c. buttermilk

1/4 c. unsulphured molasses

1/2 c. light brown sugar, packed

3 T. unsalted butter, softened

1 1/2 t. fresh ginger, peeled and grated

1 large egg, lightly beaten

For the glaze:

2/3 c. powdered sugar

3 to 5 t. freshly-squeezed lemon juice

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Line 12 muffin cups with foil liners

In a medium bowl, combine flour, ginger, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, salt and allspice, stirring mixture with a whisk. 

In a liquid measuring cup, combine the buttermilk and molasses. Whisk to incorporate.

Place the brown sugar and butter in a large bowl; beat at medium speed until blended. Add the fresh ginger and egg; mix well. Beating at low speed, add the flour mixture to the butter mixture, alternating with the molasses mixture, beginning and ending with the flour mixture. Beat just until blended. Divide the batter evenly among the muffin cups. You should have enough to fill all 12 cups a little more than half-way.

Bake for 18-20 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Place the pan on a wire rack and cool for 10 minutes, then remove the cupcakes from the pan.

While the cupcakes are baking, make the glaze. In a small bowl, combine the powdered sugar and lemon juice. Start by adding 3 t. of lemon juice, then stir to combine. Add up to 2 more teaspoons of lemon juice to thin the glaze to your liking.

Top each warm cupcake with about 1 teaspoon of glaze. The glaze is yummy, but is very lemony. A little goes a long way.

(Hello, gorgeous.)

Makes 12 cupcakes.

Especially meringues

I am in love with meringues. Total, complete unabashed love. I used to think of them only as something my mother would like, but as I've grown older I've come to understand that my mother is always right. About everything. Including meringues. Especially meringues.

It is divine, the way they melt on the tongue, their initial crunch yielding to a sweet, light interior. They can be made so quickly, with ingredients you most likely have on hand, that there is little excuse not to make a batch on a random Wednesday after work. And though they aren't good for you good for you, they are a cookie made without butter and with fluffy egg whites, so I like to think that on The Big Master List of Foods That Are Terrible -- Just Terrible! -- For You, these rank near the bottom.

Personally, I am ready for meringues to enjoy their day in the spotlight. If the beloved macaron and the trendy, tasty cupcake can have boutique bakery after boutique bakery dedicated to their sweet goodness, then why not the meringue? They are every bit as lovely, and their pastel etherealness would beckon from any gleaming dessert case. Customers might even line up around the block for one. If Carrie Bradshaw was still gracing our small screen, I'm willing to bet she'd park herself on a bench and snack on some meringues with Miranda while lamenting Steve's inability to pay for a designer suit and whining about Aidan's apparently maddening desire to commit.

But I digress. The meringues I made tonight to enjoy during the ever-brilliant "Lost" (hello, Jin!) are flavored with instant espresso and chocolate chips. Even though chocolate would not be Mom's first flavor choice -- she'd prefer vanilla, or coconut, or raspberry -- I can't help but ignore her advice on that front. I guess she doesn't know everything after all.

Oh, hell, who am I kidding?

A note: From now until Valentine's Day, A Stove With A House Around It will feature all baked goods, all the time. I contend that people's annual healthy-eating resolutions expire on Super Bowl Sunday, when the lure of chicken wings and chili and guacamole spread out over a huge platter and decorated with a sour cream 50-yard line proves too great a temptation to even the most dedicated dieters. Then Valentine's Day follows only two brief weeks on the Big Game's heels and...well...goodbye, resolutions. So whether you're looking for something sweet to bake for your husband, or cookies to send to your mom, or a cake to make for your favoritest lady friend, be sure to stop by over the next week for some yummy dessert recipes.

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CHOCOLATE-MOCHA MERINGUES

Adapted from "Everyday Food"

3/4 c. sugar

1 T. cornstarch

3 large egg whites, at room temperature

1/4 t. kosher salt

1 t. instant espresso powder

3 T. unsweetened cocoa powder

1/2 c. semisweet chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees Fahrenheit. Place oven racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven (or, if like me, you only have one oven rack, then place it in the middle and be prepared to bake two separate batches). Line two baking sheets with Silpats or parchment paper.

In a small bowl, combine sugar and cornstarch and whisk to combine and break up the lumps of cornstarch. Set aside.

In a large bowl, using a hand mixer, beat the egg whites and salt on medium speed until frothy. Continuing to beat constantly, add the sugar mixture a little bit at a time. Beat until stiff, glossy peaks form, which will take about 8-10 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl a few times during this process, to make sure the sugar is incorporated.

Add the espresso powder and cocoa; beat until well blended. Fold in the chocolate chips with a rubber spatula.

Using a small spring-loaded ice cream scoop (or a teaspoon), drop the batter onto the prepared baking sheets, leaving about 1 inch between each cookie. Bake until crisp, about 50 minutes, rotating the baking sheets halfway through. Cool completely on the sheets, then, try to compose yourself as you eat all 40 meringues.

Makes about 40 meringues, which will last through almost one entire episode of "Lost."

The home iteration

It's been a busy week.

I had to travel to Washington, DC, for a business trip that was extended by one full day due to a storm that dumped more than a foot of snow on Northeast Ohio. Not that I'm complaining. Though I missed my pup, it was nice to have the extra day in DC to explore the National Zoo and eat sweet treats from Georgetown Cupcake.

But hanging out with Nile hippos and snacking on red velvet cupcakes has a price and that price, my friends, is a lack of posts. So for those of you who checked in last week looking for some recipes for Super Bowl Sunday (congratulations, Steelers!), I apologize. It's just that sometimes giant pandas get in the way of consistent blogging.

But here I am, never fear, and today I wield something particularly fun and delicious: homemade graham crackers. Graham crackers fall into that category of foods we rarely think to make from scratch. You know, foods like ketchup, regular crackers, homemade cheese, et. al. Personally, I rather enjoy tackling these "staples" and seeing if my at-home version measures up. More often than not, the home iteration is much tastier than the store-bought and, in most cases, said foodstuff isn't very time-consuming or difficult to make at all. Such is the case with graham crackers. It's all about having the right ingredients on hand. Next time you think of it, pick up some graham flour, molasses, dark brown sugar and aluminum-free baking powder. These ingredients have decent shelf lives, and you'll always have what you need on hand should you get a hankering for homemade graham crackers.

For me, graham crackers are the snack food of champions. I eat them plain, with a tall cool glass of skim milk, for breakfast, with peanut butter, with jam (though never with peanut butter and jam; I am somewhat of a PB&J segregationist). Oh, and of course I eat them with a nice square of rich milk chocolate and a roasty toasty marshmallow sandwiched between...homemade graham crackers take the s'more to a rarefied place indeed.

I spent the better part of last week -- when I wasn't observing gorilla behavior and, naturally, attending my important work seminar -- thinking about homemade graham crackers. Thank goodness the snow let up so I could make it home to bake a batch.

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GRAHAM CRACKERS

Adapted from Alton Brown

As those of you who watch him know, Mr. Brown, though brilliant, relies heavily on measuring ingredients by weight. (Perhaps this is a source of his brilliance.) However beneficial to the art of baking, it is a bit tedious and is only possible with the correct kitchen equipment. I've said it before and I'll say it again: the kitchen scale is your friend. Your very best friend.

Meanwhile, you should see Alton's original recipe. It gives measurements like "1 7/8 oz." My equipment is not sophisticated enough for this level of precision, so I've rounded here and there. The recipe still works very well.

8 1/2 oz. graham flour

2 oz. all-purpose flour

3 oz. dark brown sugar

3/4 t. aluminum-free baking powder

1/2 t. baking soda

1/2 t. kosher salt

1/8 t. cinnamon

3 oz. unsalted butter, cut into 1/4-inch cubes and chilled

2 oz. unsulphured molasses

1 1/2 oz. whole milk

1/2 t. vanilla extract

In the bowl of a food processor, combine both flours, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon. Pulse several times to combine.

Add the butter and pulse until the mixture resembles cornmeal. Add the molasses, milk and vanilla and process until the mixture forms a ball, about 1 minute. Press the ball into a disk, wrap in plastic and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Unwrap the chilled dough and place it onto a large piece of parchment paper, then top it with a second piece of parchment. Roll out the dough until it is 1/8-inch thick. Slide the rolled dough, still between the parchment, onto a baking sheet. Remove the top sheet of parchment and cut the dough into 2-inch square pieces using a pizza cutter. Trim off any excess. Using a fork, poke holes all over the dough. (You can roll out the scraps again, between two new pieces of parchment, and bake them on a second baking sheet once the first batch is out of the oven.)

Bake on the middle rack of the oven for 20-25 minutes, or until the edges just begin to darken. Remove from the oven, set the entire pan on a wire rack and let cool completely. 

Once completely cool, gently score the crackers along the lines with a serrated knife, then carefully break into individual crackers. Store in an airtight container for up to 2 weeks.

Makes 24-32 crackers, depending on if you roll out the dough scraps.

It's in there

Have you ever asked yourself why it is socially and culinarily acceptable to include certain vegetables in baked goods, but not others? Carrot cake = divine; green pepper muffins = move on? The talented Jessie over at Cakespy asked herself the same question not too long ago, and the results were instructive. Snap pea cake, delicious! Brussels sprouts cake, heinous! Personally, though I haven't yet ventured into the world of radish-cake-making, I have long been enamored with the vegetable-baked good. I count carrot and zucchini cakes among my very favorite desserts. Even if it usually has mostly to do with the cream cheese frosting, I still like to pretend that the complexity and unique flavor profile of the vegetable is the reason why I reach for these sweets.

So while I was engaged the other day in what appears to be my new pastime -- flipping through food- and cooking-related catalogs for recipes because purveyors have gotten wise and realized that the way to make me look at the exact same wares in issue after issue is to pepper those pages with recipes -- I was pleased to discover a vegetable-baked good that looked delicious: chocolate zucchini muffins from the Penzey's catalog. (Penzey's is fabulous at this new catalog strategy, by the way. Their catalogs are chock full of recipes -- good-looking recipes for sweet and savory dishes alike -- that spur me to consider every page.) I immediately ripped out the recipe and got myself to the store. As I was picking out the zucchini in the produce section Husband asked me what they were for, most likely expecting me to answer with something healthier than "chocolate muffins." For the record, my answer -- to most questions -- is "chocolate muffins."

And what a good use of fresh veggies these muffins are. They give off the most pleasing, rich cocoa aroma and they're so ridiculously moist and studded with chocolate chips, it's like, where did the zucchini even go? Ah, but it's in there...flexing its little vegetable muscle to cut all that chocolate with a slightly pungent (in a good way!) note. In addition to making my taste buds happy, these muffins also made me rather selfish: I thought about bringing some of them to work, but then decided that I didn't really need to share, after all.

I get like that about my vegetable-baked goods. Hands off, people.

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CHOCOLATE ZUCCHINI MUFFINS

Adapted from the Penzeys catalog

1/2 c. milk

1/4 t. white vinegar

1/2 c. (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1/2 c. safflower (or vegetable) oil

1 3/4 c. sugar

2 large eggs

2 t. vanilla extract

2 1/2 c. all-purpose flour

1/4 c. unsweetened cocoa powder

1 t. baking soda

1/2 t. cinnamon (Ceylon, if you have it)

1/2 t. kosher salt

2 c. zucchini, peeled and finely grated (about 3 small zucchini)

1 1/2 c. semi-sweet chocolate chips, divided

1/2 c. pecans or walnuts, chopped

Preheat oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit. Line 2 standard muffins tins with papers.

In a liquid measuring cup, mix together the milk and vinegar and set aside. In a large bowl, beat together the butter, oil and sugar until creamy. Add the eggs, vanilla extract and milk/vinegar mixture. Blend well.

In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, cinnamon and salt. (It's important to sift to remove and lumps from the cocoa powder.) Add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture and stir by hand, using a rubber spatula or a wooden spoon, to combine. Add the grated zucchini and 1/2 c. of the chocolate chips and stir well. 

Using a spring-loaded ice-cream scoop, dish the batter evenly into the pans, filling each paper about 2/3 full. Sprinkle the muffins with the rest of the chocolate chips and the pecans/walnuts.

Bake for 30-35 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack, then, consume!

Makes 24 muffins.

A little less bright

It is with great sadness that I interrupt my regular blogging schedule to pay tribute to Luta Roberts. She was a dear friend of my family's -- a surrogate grandmother to me -- and she passed away yesterday morning.

You have read about Luta's fantastic personality, memorable exploits and delicious recipes several times in this space -- she is my muse when it comes to chicken divan, pecan pie, cream of mushroom soup and spaghetti brownies. There are plenty more tales and recipes where those came from, and I look forward to sharing them with you in the coming months in memory of her.

Luta and her husband, Jack, played a huge part in my formative years. They were fine, fine people -- caring and gracious and loving and compassionate in every sense of the words. And they were hilarious. I am so grateful to have known them both, and the world is a little less bright without them around. Especially without Luta's sparkling eyes and kind smile.

To Jim, their son: thank you for finding me today to relay the sad news. It means the world to me and my family that you've made the effort to find us again after all these years. Our thoughts and prayers are with you and Marcia during this difficult time. To Jack: I'm happy that Luta has found her way to you again, and I'm certain she'll be dragging you all around heaven in no time.

And to Luta: I miss you.

Ye olde favorite

There are certain ingredients -- and words -- that attract me to every recipe in which they're found. Peanuts. "Spicy." Mint. Chickpeas. Peanut Butter. "Thai." Rigatoni. Pistachios. Cumin. Extra-firm tofu. Kalamata olives. Walnuts. Meyer lemons. This is how I end up with several different iterations of rigatoni with pistachios and Meyer lemons, and more than a dozen recipes for noodles with a spicy peanut sauce. For as much as I want to branch out, ye olde favorite foodstuffs just keep pulling me right back in.

Today I share with you one of those dozen-plus recipes that involve noodles, Asian flavors and peanuts. To me, there are few foods that pair better than noodles and peanut. Maybe tofu and peanut is a close second, but I don't know. (This is -- of course -- discounting chocolate, which is clearly the most divine partner the peanut could ever have. But I am trying to be "healthy" here, so bear with me.) There is something magical about the way an al dente noodle cozies up next to a crunchy, earthy peanut. It is extraordinarily fun to chase around the peanuts, one by one, with chopsticks, like Mr. Miyagi catching flies only the peanuts are to be savored while the flies, not so much. This recipe is pleasing and fresh, relying on the peanut for its base and other verdant ingredients -- like cucumber and mint -- for the occasional burst of clean, bright flavor. I could eat dishes like this until the cows came home, which would be a long while because I don't have any cows.

This cold noodle dish is quick and easy to make, perfect for a healthy meal after a nice workout. Which is how I ate it tonight: after a nice run and while watching "The Biggest Loser." (Black Team, oh Black Team. You should have sent Joelle packing.) It would also be a great lunch on a busy workday, though you might want to keep the sauce separate until you're ready to eat. I just love how the buckwheat-y soba soaks up the ginger, lime and soy, punctuated by the occasional crunch of cucumber and soft flavor of the mint. Clearly there is a reason I gravitate toward recipes like this.

Now, excuse me while I go categorize my chickpea recipes.

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ASIAN NOODLE SALAD WITH PEANUTS AND MINT

Adapted from "Everyday Food"

8 oz. soba (buckwheat) noodles

2 T. soy sauce

2 T. freshly-squeezed lime juice

1 T. safflower or vegetable oil

1/2 t. fresh ginger, grated

1/4 t. freshly-cracked black pepper

2 scallions, thinly sliced on the bias (scallions are so lovely when cut on the bias)

1/2 cucumber, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced

1/2 c. unsalted peanuts, coarsely chopped

1/3 c. fresh mint leaves

Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil. Cook noodles until al dente, about 4-5 minutes. Watch carefully so they don't overcook and get mushy. Drain, then rinse under cold water to stop the cooking. If you're anything like me, you will find it goes against your better judgement to rinse noodles of any kind. Go ahead; it's the right thing to do for this recipe. Drain well.

In a small bowl or liquid measuring cup, whisk together the soy sauce, lime juice, oil, ginger and black pepper. In a large bowl, combine noodles, scallions, cucumber, peanuts and mint. Toss the noodle mixture with the sauce, and serve.

Makes 4 servings, or maybe 3 if you're hungry.